


Handsome Dragon

by sewer_seance



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Rugby, Angst, Bullying, Closeted Characters, Drugs, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Forced Outing, Grief/Mourning, Handsome Devil AU, Homophobia, Ireland, M/M, Multiple chapters, Slurs, Trans Character, its starts angsty, past character death mention, past relationship/crush mention, then it gets angsty then happy again, then it gets happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-05 03:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17317640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewer_seance/pseuds/sewer_seance
Summary: Merlin’s life has gone downhill ever since he was sent to Camelot Boarding School: an institution obsessed with Rugby. Being the only openly gay character is tough on its own, but it gets tougher when you get landed with the star rugby player as you’re roommate. So Merlin comes up with a plan to get expelled within the month, which proves easier said than done, especially when juggling new teachers, and new relationships. As time goes on, Merlin realizes that going to school at Camelot isn’t the worst thing to happen to him.





	1. Chapter One - Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off the movie Handsome Devil that came out in 2016. So if you’ve seen the movie, it’s going to pretty closely follow the plot, just with a few changes in relationship and character. Example, the movie was relatively tame. The fic will not be. 
> 
> Side note, this fic is for Ultimate Thottie who watxhed this movie with me and kept saying “Wow I love Merthur” whenever anything happened so here we are.

  
Camelot Boarding School seemed to be modeled after Merlin’s own personal hell. And there was no way he could get out of going. This would be his second year attending and if last year was any indication, he was in some serious trouble. Last year marked when his life went from alright to awful. That was the year his father died. That was the year his mother remarried the asshole who enrolled him in Camelot in the first place. That was the year he was outed to an entire school of rugby obsessed pricks. There was no way Merlin was going to risk repeating that. And thus his plot was hatched.

  
If he was to be forced to go to Camelot, he would make his stay as short as possible. Expulsion shouldn’t be that difficult. There were plenty of options all at the ready for him: fighting, though he wasn’t much of a fighter, vandalism, preferable but not quite his style, not showing up for class, the lazy route. If he was going out, he was going to go out in style. It was just going to take a while to find his style.

  
He stayed quiet in the back seat of the car, his disposition growing gloomier the closer they got to the school. Camelot was way out in the country, two hours away from anything and even then it was barely a city. At the school, he would be utterly and completely at the hands of the other isolated pupils.

  
“You know, you’re practically sending me off to prison,” he piped up, arms across his chest, face sullen.

  
“Not this again,” Ned, his stepdad, groaned, “You’re going and that’s that! It’s a fine school.”

  
“Why do I even have to go to any school?” Merlin leaned forward to stick his head over into the front seats, “I’m practically an adult. What more can these people teach me?”

  
Hunith looked over her shoulder and smiled sadly at her son. “Well, you’re actually sixteen,” she raised a playful eyebrow, “So I think you’ve still got some learning to do.” She reached out to grab one of Merlin’s hands and gently rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand in that way she always did to calm him down. Many a night after terrible nightmares she would hold him close and rub circles into his hand while his father sat nearby, deep voice rumbling with some other magical tale to distract Merlin, so that this time when he slept he might dream of dragons and princes and wizards. But all that was over now.

  
He slipped his hand out of his mother’s grasp and leaned back against his seat, staring at his brand new sneakers: a parting gift. He clicked the stark white rubber toes together for the rest of the drive, a storm brewing above his head.

  
Eventually, the family pulled up in front of the ancient school, with its high cold stone turrets, red and gold banners with the school’s dragon crest eerily still in the face of no wind. Merlin unfolded his long limbs as he got out of the tiny back seat. His mother also got out to get his trunk, making more of a fuss over his hair than actually helping. He tried to brush her off, face going red as some of the other boys arriving started pointing and laughing. “Need your mummy to come to school with you, Emrys?” One students jeered. Merlin ducked his mom’s arms and stepped away.

  
“I’m alright,” He grumped, undoing what his mother had done to his hair. He preferred the unkempt, bed head look in any case. Merlin grabbed his trunk and hurried away to the front steps before pausing. He looked over his shoulder to see his mother looking down, hands in her skirt, hair almost as messy as his. He sagged and shook his head, running back to envelop her in a tight hug. She threw her arms up around her son and squeezed so tight he thought a rib might crack.

  
“I love you, mum,” he muttered into her frizz before tearing away back to his trunk and up the steps.

  
First things first was to check the list to see who he was stuck rooming with for the rest of the year. September to June. 10 months of tense run ins and tight quarters. He waited patiently for his turn to see the list, constantly being jostled by larger boys as they jumped on their friends in raucous greeting after summer holidays. Cursed be the day he was sent to a rugby worshipping school. Finally, it was his turn. He lugged his trunk up to the board and ran his finger slowly down the list, checking for his name.

  
Emrys, Merlin. He blinked and swiped at his eyes. There was no way he was seeing this correctly. Emrys, Merlin. No other name accompanied his with the room number. He had no roommate. Slowly, a jubilant smile broke across his face. He had no roommate!

  
“Yes!” He shouted, fist bumping into the air, nearly tripping over his trunk. However, his shout and his joy went unnoticed in the surrounding chaos. Well, it would have if it hadn’t been for Cenred. Cenred was one of the varsity players and aside from rugby, he lived to make Merlin’s life as miserable as possible. He didn’t have any other pastimes: rugby and tormenting Merlin. He was one of the worst parts of this prison school. Of course he would pounce at Merlin if he showed any semblance of joy.

  
“Emrys!” He appeared from the crowd, throwing a meaty arm around Merlin’s thin shoulders, “Alright? Who’s the unlucky sod who’s stuck with you?” He squeezed Merlin’s shoulders, nasty smile exposing wonky teeth. Merlin tried to wriggle him off...unsuccessfully.

  
“No one,” he told Cenred. Nothing was going to dampen his mood right now, he was determined of it. Not even Cenred. “I get a room to myself this year.”

  
Cenred frowned and shoved Merlin away. “No way. No way do you get a room to yourself.” He checked the list and his frown deepened before giving way to a devilish grin. “Well fuck me it’s true! Probably because staff don’t want you bumming anyone down in the middle of the night.”

  
He felt a surge of white hot anger bubble up in him, his arms shaking and vision blurring. But he couldn’t give Cenred the satisfaction of lashing out. Sure, it was his plan to be expelled, but he didn’t want it to be because of this prick. He grabbed his trunk, eyeing an escape route through the crowd. He’d need to be fast to get away from Cenred after his comeback. “What, sad it’s not you?” He quipped before dodging around some students and making for the stairs. He could count on a couple seconds before what he said actually processed in that ape’s brain. Those couple seconds would just have to be enough to save his arse.

  
Merlin booked it as fast he could up the stairs with his trunk in tow. The farther away from the ground floor he got, the safer he felt. He slowed to a brisk walk down the hall, checking the numbers of the rooms. 217. This was it. The door swung open and Merlin beamed at the sight of the two empty beds, knowing that the second would never be filled.

  
This was actually the first time he’d ever been remotely happy at Camelot. He was actually eager to unpack and set up. Clothes wise, there wasn’t much to do. He had a few sets of the uniform, deep red sweater with gold hints, tie, and slacks, along with scarf and gloves the school supplied for winter months. Besides the uniform, he had a couple outfits he could wear if the school ever decided there was need to go to town on a field trip or something.

  
He pinned up his posters, banners and flyers, fully decorating his side of the wall. After all was finished, he stood back to take in his artwork. Of course, everything was aesthetically placed. Vintage style posters littered with sketches adorned the walls. Muted blues and grays added the comfort of color to the spackled walls and wrought iron beds. He reminded himself not to get too attached to his sanctuary. If everything went to plan, he’d be out of here within the month anyways.

  
A gentle rapping on his door made him jump. The person on the other side didn’t bother waiting for a reply before letting themselves in. A teacher who Merlin didn’t recognise gave him a quick once over before asking, “Mr. Emrys?”

  
“Yes?”

  
“Headmaster Gaius would like to speak with you,” the teacher nodded his head toward the open door, signaling for Merlin to follow him. Merlin grabbed his sweater and pulled it over his head on his way out the door, struggling with fixing the collar of his shirt over the sweater. The Headmasters office was towards the front of the school so that parents could find it easier if the need for visiting ever arised. The hallway was often deserted, but the first day of school meant it would be a little more crowded than usual. Crowded meant two or three people at most. The teacher pointed to one of the rickety wooden chairs just outside the door.

  
“Wait right here. Headmaster will call you in when he’s ready.”

  
Merlin eyed the chair suspiciously. It looked like a ladybird was enough weight to turn it into splinters. The chair moaned when he sat down, even with him just being skin and bones, but it stayed intact. The teacher left him alone in the drafty hall to wait. He had no idea how long he would be here. It could be five minutes, could be twenty. Either way, it was plenty of time to think why on earth Headmaster Gaius would want to see him.

  
He hadn’t done anything yet that would warrant a visit. Classes hadn’t even started yet. Maybe this visit had something to do with the events of last year. His heart clenched at the thought. They wouldn’t kick him out just for being gay. Gaius was extremely close with his mother: they had grown up in the same town and he let Merlin into his school on a scholarship as a favor to her. Besides, from Hunith had told Merlin about Gaius, he seemed like a very open-minded man. At least, as open-minded as he could be. But things had steadily gotten worse last year after the reality of Merlin’s preferences were spread around the school. Perhaps this meeting was a reminder of how students at Camelot should act, or an apology for all that Merlin went through last year. He seriously doubted it. The anxious, rapid tapping of Merlin’s sneakers echoed down the hall as he waited. The seconds lagged on, driving him slowly crazy. He was just about to jump up to start pacing when the large oak doors creaked open.

  
“We’ll do our best for him, if he, of course, does his best for us,” Merlin recognised Gaius’ soft voice. However, he didn’t recognize the cold voice of the man exiting. He had a stern, wooden face, that might have been attractive in his younger years but had been warped by years of frowns.

  
“Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice, Headmaster,” he said, sounding more bored than grateful. Stepping out with him was a boy who Merlin assumed to be his son. Merlin couldn’t take his eyes off him. His physique obviously suggested that another rugby lad had come to the school. He had quite a lot of blond hair, combed in a most basic way. Not that Merlin could expect more from a Camelot student. None of the others, aside from him, really cared for appearance beside how many muscles they could flex. His eyes lingered over the straight bridge of his nose and his strong jawline. He looked extraordinarily like his father, just softer in his angles. Less stern as well. He held himself in a way that seemed to purposefully mimic his dad, and Merlin had to keep himself from snorting. All these boys were bloody carbon copies.

  
The boy’s eyes flickered to Merlin when he looked down to hide his smirk. He stared at him down the length of his nose in a way Merlin didn’t like at all. What, did he think he was better than him? Just because his clothes were pressed nicely while Merlin sat in a pool of wrinkles, or maybe because he possessed a healthier look by far than the scrawny boy on the chair. Merlin frowned right back at him. Hopefully he was a year ahead of him, or slept the floor below or above. Merlin didn’t need another snob in his life that he was constantly running into.

  
“Ah, Merlin!” Gaius smiled, when he noticed what the blond boy was sneering at, “Perfect. Just the person I need to see. Mr. Pendragon, will you excuse me? You and your son are free to take his things to his room,” Gaius nodded at the man and his son and opened the door of his office for Merlin. Merlin rose from his chair, keeping eye contact with the boy until his father was nudging him down the hall and Gaius nudging him into his office.

  
“Have a seat, Merlin,” Gaius said, seating himself behind the grand desk. The chairs in here were much nicer, upholstered with fine red felt and dark wood. There was no creaking this time when he sast down.

  
“Am I in trouble, Headmaster?” Merlin asked cautiously, folding his hands in his lap.

  
“No, not at all!” Gaius waved his hands with a slight laugh, “No there's just been, ah, some changes.” He moved things around on his desk as he spoke, not looking Merlin in the eye. Even if he wasn’t in any sort of trouble, Merlin still wasn't resting easy. It was never good news when adults refused to look at you. His mother had done the same thing when she told him that she had to get married or when she told him that they were sending him to Camelot in the first place.

  
“Changes, Headmaster?” he pushed, leaning forward in his chair a little. Still, Gaius wouldn’t look at him. Maybe it was about his tuition. The scholarship from last year was no longer applicable and he could no longer attend because his mother couldn’t afford to keep him there. Then he could go home and it wouldn’t even be his fault!

  
“Yes. It’s about your room.” Merlin’s heart sank a little before freezing all together. Did he just mention his room? “We’ve had a few last minute additions to our roster. It’s not just you. Everyone who was given a single room this year is gaining a roommate. Sorry if it’s any inconvenience. But it shouldn’t be so bad!” Gaius tried to spin the anvil he had just dropped onto Merlin so that not all seemed lost, “You had a roommate last year, so it’s not like you’ll know what you’re missing out on.”

  
Merlin shook his head. This was awful. Whatever hope he had felt a few minutes ago was gone now. He was stupid to think that this year might be different just because he had his own room. Now he didn’t even have that anymore. If he was going to be expelled, it would have to be fast.

  
“Merlin?” Merlin looked up to find Gaius staring at him over his clasped hands, wisened eyebrows raised in question, “Are you alright, my boy?” Merlin stood suddenly, chair screeching as it was pushed against the wood floors.

  
“Thanks for the heads up,” Merlin whispered, trying his best to keep the anger out of his voice. He turned and fled from the office, ignoring the calls from Gaius for his return. He wasn’t really sure where he intended to go. Normally, his room would’ve been a safe bet, but he had no idea if he was still the only one there or not. With his odds, the answer was probably no. So, no to going back to his room. He couldn’t exactly wander the halls either. Almost anybody he would run into would be more than glad to shove his head down a toilet. Plus there was always the chance that he might have a run in with Cenred. Merlin was willing to bet that after this morning’s comments Cenred probably had more in mind than toilet dunking.

  
With no other options, Merlin made his way across the school to the auditorium. The storage area underneath the stage to be exact. Not a lot of people knew about the place. He was sure the secret was kept between him and the janitor. He was lucky enough to find it last year during one of his many hideouts while avoiding the rugby team. The ceiling was low, and it was cold, but it was his. The walls were covered in paint, tags, and gum from other students in the past who also used to frequent the place. One or two bulbs kept the place dimly lit. They were the type that hummed when they were turned on. In the corner was an old record player and a crate full of dusty albums. Merlin placed on of the albums on and made sure the volume was low before setting the tone-arm down on the disk.

  
The dulcet tones of Simon and Garfunkel warbled across the small space, their harmonies barely more than a whisper tickling the back of his neck. He cleared some junk off of a box and folded his legs underneath him. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice told him he was being a little silly. It was just a room. But he knew it was more than that. It was what the room represented. A spot of sun in the cage. Now someone had thrown a blanket over the cage, keeping the sun from shining through. He fell back until his head hit the wall, the cool metal seeping in through his sweater. Just for the moment, he didn’t want to be Merlin, only openly gay kid at Camelot. He just wanted to be Merlin, the kid from Trim, Hunith and Balinor’s son. Back home, it didn’t matter who he was because he wasn’t alone. Everything was political and not every move you made was watched by society. He could just sit in the breakfast nook with his dad nearly snorting his coffee at Merlin’s silly sketches all over the table cloth. Mom would come and scold Merlin for ruining yet another table cloth, smile on her face all the while. But his dad would wiggle his eyebrows at him and add his own sketches to the table.

  
He wasn’t even aware he was crying until the tears dropped onto his hands. Though entirely alone, he burned with embarrassment and wiped his eyes clear. Being the emotional sadist, he fished in his back pocket for a moment and pulled out a few pictures he had nabbed that morning before they left. He went over them over and over again, smiling through watery eyes at familiar faces and serene memories. He had forgotten what his mom used to look like. There weren’t any bags under eyes, and she laughed easily. Now she was tired all the time, sagging under the weight of the last few years. He couldn’t blame her. Everyday he still woke up feeling like something had crushed him in his sleep. He could only imagine what it was like for her. Maybe Ned made it better. Maybe that’s why she married him so soon after…

  
He shoved the pictures back in his pocket along with his tears and reminiscing. Looking for distraction, Merlin turned up the volume a little, listening closely to the lyrics. Who knew when knowing them might come in handy later? Most of his essays from last year were old songs, their old geezer of a teacher too bland to recognize any of the lyrics. Cursing his lack of pen and paper, he tried his best to memorise the song instead. It wouldn’t be too hard. Merlin had a surprisingly good memory. His hands itched to hold something, fingers drumming against his knee in irritation. All of his poison, however, was upstairs in his bag, in his room. And the whole point of hiding in the basement was so he wouldn’t have to go up to his room.

  
Still, hadn’t enough time passed? He had burnt a good chunk of it listening to the entire A side. The turntable now stilled, the tone-arm having run out of record to play. Merlin tapped his foot, now the only sound in the room, as he thought. Maybe, _maybe_ , if he left the basement, he could dip into his room. His roommate might not even be there yet. He could grab his bag and head back down if need be. Easy Peasy. He sheathed the album and flicked the lights off, finding his way to the stairs in the dark.

  
Not as easy peasy as Merlin would’ve hoped. The door to his room was already cracked open when he got to it, a chorus a voices drifting through it. It was too late to turn back. His mind was already made up and he wanted his bag. Sucking in a deep breath, Merlin pushed the door open, his stomach immediately dropping as if a thousand stones had suddenly been shoved down his throat.

  
His room was filled with half the rugby team, all of them circled around Merlin’s new roommate. Another stone fell into his stomach. The boy from before, the one with the jaw and grim reaper father, was seated on the other bed. He was his roommate? This guy? Seriously?! At first, none of the others noticed when Merlin entered the room, too caught up in a conversation about the rugby practice schedule. Leon, the captain, was sat on the windowsill, a pleasant smile on his face as he explained things to Merlin’s roommate. Merlin only knew the names of a few others. There was Percival and Gwaine, seated on the floor, Gwaine trying to wrestle the much larger Percival. They weren’t so awful. Gwaine had always been nice to Merlin, meaning he had never shoved him in a trash can or locked him in the toilet. Percival hadn’t done anything to Merlin either, but he never stopped any of his teammates, just watched with a frown. It was Cenred that really worried Merlin. And speak of the devil, the man himself was currently standing on his bed with his muddied shoes.

  
Cenred’s harsh laugh interrupted the conversation, the team turning to look at him. “Arthur! Don’t tell me that _this_ is your roommate!” Then all the attention turned to Merlin. He desperately hoped that his eyes or nose were no longer red from crying. Cenred gleefully continued when Merlin didn’t say anything.

  
“I was wondering who had set this all up,” he gestured to Merlin’s wall display, “I mean, Ariana Grande? And all these faggy sketches,” cenred laughed, ripping one of Merlin’s drawings of the wall.

  
“Don’t do that!” Merlin surged forward, grabbing Cenred’s arm, intent on getting him off his bed and out of his room.

  
“Touch me homo,” Cenred jerked, voice rising, “and I yell rape!” Merlin jumped back, the bile rising in his throat as Cenred tore down another sketch and looked at it. He had to clench his fist to keep from moving.

  
“Gross. Lads, he’s into older fellas,” he waved the drawing Merlin had done of his father in front of the rest of the team’s faces. Merlin bit his lip so hard he thought it might start bleeding. He couldn’t say anything. Who knew what might provoke Cenred into doing something rash. The last thing he need was for him to trash his room, or, god forbid, rip the sketch up. The team didn’t react. Percival picked a spot on the floor to stare at, Gwaine looked back and forth between the drawing and Merlin, Leon shook his head at Cenred and poor Arthur just looked confused.

  
Cenred, angry at the lack of response, balled the drawing up an launched it at Merlin’s face. Gwaine jumped up and yanked Cenred off the bed. “What’s wrong with you?” he shouted, but Cenred just brushed the smaller boy off of him.

  
“Arthur, you should seriously consider switching rooms. You’re gonna get AIDS in here! And we can’t have our teammate giving us AIDS,” he scoffed, glowering at Merlin before sweeping out of the room. The room went silent with his departure. The only one looking at Merlin was Arthur, his expression unreadable.

  
“We’ll see you at practice,” Leon muttered, giving Arthur’s shoulder a pat. He gestured for the other two to follow him. The team silently brushed past Merlin. The lump in Merlin’s throat threatened to burst. It had been ever since Cenred had destroyed his picture. He stayed upright in the middle of the room, not daring to bend down to pick up the wad of paper. He knew if he went down to pick up the ball, he would stay down. He kept his eyes clamped tight, gulping at the lump, Cenred’s words beating at his skull. The bed creaked, signalling Arthur had left him as well. Merlin let his chin drop onto his chest and now that he was alone again, he let a few tear slip out from under his eyelids.

  
“Here,” a soft voice said. Merlin blinked up at Arthur’s form. So he hadn’t left. His face was still blank, his eyes downcast. Merlin followed his gaze to his outstretched hand. Delicately held between his fingers was Merlin’s drawing, flattened out, still horribly wrinkled. He sniffed and took the drawing from the other boy’s hand, turning his back on him. Merlin made no sound aside from a few sniffs as he retaped the pictures to his wall. When he turned back around, Arthur had gone for good.

 


	2. Chapter 2 - Essay

How easily Merlin could’ve given up right there and then. A growing pit of darkness had been threatening to swallow him up all day. He was sure no one could judge him if he just wanted to curl up in his bed for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Merlin knew better. People would judge him. “Did you hear about Emrys? He just hid in his room and cried all day. Bloody poof.” There was no way he would give them the satisfaction. If he gave in now, everything would be just like last year. He would be an easy target again. Not this year. No, this time he would show everyone that he deserved their respect rather than their ridicule. It was how to go about gaining that respect was the problem.

  
He supposed he would have to start with his roommate. Though he planned to stay only a short while, boundaries were essential. Especially if the rugby team were going to be frequently congregating in his room. Merlin didn’t even really think his plan all the way through, considering pros and cons before springing into action. Then again, he hardly ever thought things through. Not that he needed to. His instincts were almost always right. Given his lack of excess muscles unlike most the boys his age, it took a bit longer to execute his plan. He tugged and shoved the book shelves, dressers, any spare furniture in the room, to create a physical wall right down the middle. How was that for boundaries? To top it all of, he was sure to make some arrows so that his roommate wouldn’t get the wrong idea. One arrow said “Merlin” and pointed to his side. The other said “Clot Pole” pointing to the other.

  
For the second time that day, Merlin admired his work of art. This way he had his own room back. Well, sort of. It would just have to do for about a month. He planned to be out of here by then in any case. The bell rang down the hall, signaling dinner time. For all the bad things about Camelot, it’s food was actually ok. Merlin took one last look at his wall before leaving. He smirked to himself to imagine how his roommate’s face when he saw it. The war had officially begun.

  
Arthur was less than enthused, to say the least. Still, he made no attempt to take it down. He still let his feeling known, however, storming about the room, being generally loud in everything he did. Merlin just rolled his eyes. The whole school was loud. A little extra noise in his room was nothing.

  
That first night, he made sure to keep his own lamp on a whole half hour later after Arthur had turned his own out. Merlin grimaced when Arthur began to snore, clamping his pillow around his head. Just his luck that he would be stuck with a growling bear for a roommate and not the fun kind either. Merlin rolled onto his side to glare at the wall, snores still penetrating through the paper-thin pillow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow might be better.

  
Tomorrow would not be better. Tomorrow was the welcoming assembly and the first day of classes. First thing after breakfast the entire school filed into the auditorium. The teachers were sat up on the stage, looking over their pupils for the year. Headmaster Gaius was at the podium, smiling in a rather simple manner as the boys took their seats. The din was deafening, mostly coming from the rugby players, both varsity and JV. Merlin, swallowed up in the sea of boys, found himself pooled into the middle of the hall where he could easily fade into the crowd. Gaius began welcomes, but the boys only quieted down a notch. The hall only settled down when the rugby coach, an aging man with a deceivingly joyful face, roared for silence.

  
“Thank you, Agravaine,” Gaius nodded his appreciation. “First, I would like to welcome all of you back for another year at Camelot. We have some new teachers on staff, particularly in the English department. We must regretfully inform you that Professor James has left us,” a cheer went up in the hall. Professor James was a cantankerous old man, easy to pull the wool over his eyes if you were smart enough. Merlin wasn’t too concerned about the new English professor. They were all alike: crotchety, old, and stuffy. It was easy to fool Professor James, it would be easy enough to fool the new guy as well. The cheering stopped when Gaius eyed the crowd with his infamous eyebrow raise. Once quiet prevailed, he continued.

  
“Now, to business. The rugby team-” Once again, a roar went up in the crowd. Merlin rolled his eyes and slumped in his chair. They didn’t even know what the announcement was about yet. They just hear the word rugby and lose their shit. Merlin didn’t understand it and he didn't particularly want to either. Agravaine wasn’t helping to calm the crowd down either. He pumped his fist and cheered with the rest of them, riling them all up even more. Appropriate behavior for a teacher, or an adult in general. Gaius raised his voice to continue on, not bothering to wait for calm to settle again. Lord knows that would take forever. Merlin couldn’t really hear him, but it was all about rugby so it didn’t matter to him. Something about the team and good luck to them during the season.

  
Merlin jumped up when they were finally dismissed to classes. It was either jump up or get sucked under the feet of hundreds of boys. He clutched his bag to his side as he was jostled out into the hall. When he finally had enough room to move about, he dodged through the crowd to get to his good class. If he didn’t get there early, all the good seats would be gone. A few of the other boys must’ve had the same idea because the classroom was already filling up by the time he got there. He found a seat in the middle of the room: perfectly ambiguous. His mood was beginning to improve until a certain blond roommate walked in and had the gall to sit right next to him. Merlin stared rigidly at the front of the classroom, not even looking around when a wadded ball of paper struck him in the back of the head. Why? Of all the empty seats left in the classroom, why did this turnip head have to sit next to him? He balled his hands in his lap so tightly they hurt. It didn’t matter much to Merlin. If he was the praying type, he would currently be praying that his roommate would somehow have to move away from him. He didn’t. Perfect.

  
Classes at Camelot were usually dull. English was Merlin’s favorite because it was the easiest class to scam. It was all bullshitted essays and in class reading. At least, that’s the way it had always been. As soon as the new teacher walked in, Merlin could tell that this year things might run a little differently. The teacher was young, actually young, with a wealth of black hair and a smooth face. Merlin pegged him to be mid thirties, possibly late twenties. They had one of those young, ambiguous faces. They were slight, like him, and wore actually clothes, not just terrible brown sweaters. He walked right up to the board and quickly wrote out in large letters, “Mr. LeFay”.

  
The students didn’t exactly care or notice, even, that their new teacher had finally arrived. The buzz of conversation still bounced off the walls along with notes hurled across the room at one another in the form of aeroplanes and wads. Merlin waited for the teacher to shout for order, but no bark escaped his lips. He silently surveyed the classroom, wry smile lighting his eyes. Steadily, students throughout the room became aware of his steely gaze and fell silent, a shock spreading around the room. Merlin was amazed. Never had he seen a teacher quell a pack of rugby lads just by staring them down.

  
“I’m Mr. LeFay,” the teacher calmly announced, wandering up and down the rows. His voice sounded a little off, almost like he was going through puberty again. A few of the boys sniggered but Mr. LeFay ignored them. He walked back up the row to go and sit on his desk Not at his desk, _on_ it. “Let’s make a deal,” he said, reigning the attention of the class back in. He tapped his chin as he thought, the group waiting to hear what he had to offer but more importantly, what they would get in return.

  
“I grew up in Dublin and was raised by my aunt. Every summer we’d borrow this little hut by the sea. It was cramped and cold and always stank of fish and salt. This little hut was the best place on earth. My aunt and I would walk along the shore until we couldn’t feel our toes. She would tell me stories about the things that supposedly lived in the water and I believed every word she said. I haven’t been to that little hut in years, but it remains, to this day, what I consider as my first home.”

  
Merlin was rapt listening to his tale. He wasn’t aware he had been leaning forward until his chest began to bruise with the line of the desk. Mr. LeFay looked out over the class again and clicked his tongue to find that only a few people had been listening, most of the boys losing interest with the first sentence.

  
“Now, it’s time for you to hold up your end of the deal.” Confused glances shot around the room, searching for solidarity in their loss. What deal? He had never proposed the deal!

  
“I’ve told you something about myself. Quite a bit actually. Though it was just one memory, you can tell a lot about a person from what they consider important. Now I want to know what all of you think is important. I’m assigning an essay, to be turned in on Thursday. I want it to be about what you think is your most important childhood memory.” A groan went up from the desks, but Mr. LeFay scowled and shook his head.

  
“None of that! It’s easy enough. Again, I want it done by Thursday, no exceptions. Now, open up _Julius Caesar_ to Act one, scene one…”

  
Merlin opened up his book but let his mind wander. A childhood memory. He had plenty of those, but none of them were available for sharing time. He would just have to find sometime later today to pop back down underneath the auditorium and find an appropriate song. Mr. LeFay looked shiny and new enough. Merlin doubted he would’ve heard any of the songs, let alone albums he had on file. He was only vaguely aware of the play being read around him. Afterall, what could he really gain from learning about Caesar through Shakespeare’s eyes?

  
After English, the same old boring schedule fell into line. English to maths, maths to chemistry, chemistry to languages. Elective classes were after lunch and Merlin had only signed up for one. Art. An easy A, since there wasn’t much more he could be taught about shading or color spectrums or whatever this professor thought was important. It would bore him out of his body and soul for sure, but he’d rather end the day sketching than anything else. Besides, only having one elective meant he could get off early, left to his own devices, which was how he preferred it. He would need that extra period to plan his daring escape. Merlin pushed through a painfully easy lesson about drawing still life, producing a solitary apple, before jumping out of his seat as soon as the bell rang.

  
His secret hideaway wouldn’t be available yet, not if he wanted to avoid the theatre department (as miniscule as it was). Still, he had an hour to pass. Fortunately, down wasn’t the only way to go. There was always up. He slipped to his room, confident that Arthur Whats-His-Face wouldn’t be there. If he really was on the rugby team, he would be busy at his first practice which took place of the team’s last period. Merlin emptied his bag onto his bed of books, and papers, and assignments. Instead, he stuff his personal sketchbook inside, a few pencils ideal for drawing, and a little bit of skunk he had hidden under his bed in the back corner along with his lighter.

  
Getting access to the roof was easy enough. The janitor didn’t think any of the students were clever enough to realise there was even a way to get to the roof, let alone where the stairwell was. So the door was always unlocked, a good thing for Merlin since he would have no idea how to pick it’s lock.

  
Being a delinquent took planning, it took practice. Merlin wasn’t always one, and he still didn’t consider himself full on bad. Getting high on the roof of his boarding school wasn’t that bad, right? Especially considering he was always careful about it. He stayed far from the edges and only smoke enough to barely keep his wits about him. Merlin was impulsive but he wasn’t a fool. Besides, the roof was the only safe place one could get high around here. If he ever smoked inside, someone would for sure smell it. Up here the stench had more chance of dissolving on the wind. He stuck the paper between his lips and lit it up before pulling out his sketchbook. He leaned against one of the chimneys protruding from the vaulted roof, with rivets and curves like a cathedral. The mix of metal and brick against his back and underside chilled him but he grit his teeth and bore it. It would get worse in the winter month so much to the point that he would have to find a different place. The roof was the best spot though. Even if someone did smell him, they would never dream to check up here.

  
He inhaled deeply for a while, letting the smoke work it’s way through his system. The surrounding world relaxed with him, the breath it was holding before slowly releasing. He felt lighter, taller, better than he had for a long while. Merlin smiled ruefully to himself. If he wasn’t so good at hiding it, he could get expelled for this. Going to dangerous places, doing dangerous things, all on campus. It was a blight on the school and on his own record. It was honestly a miracle that Ned hadn’t found his stash over the holidays, invasive as he was. Merlin didn’t really know what he would’ve done otherwise. He couldn’t stand another year at this school without some way of escape. He pulled the joint from between his lips, putting it out against the stone of the chimney. That should be enough for now. Besides, he wanted to save what he could. Merlin couldn’t afford to be greedy, especially not so close to the beginning of the year. He still had a long way to go and only limited resources.

  
Licking his lips at the foreign yet familiar taste, he propped his book against his knees, looking across the near medieval architecture of the roof. This was the only thing that made sense. It was mathematical, predictable. Lines had to meet lines which would then form a picture. Slowly, the page started to burst into life, filled with gothic points, jagged edges, all together an eerie scene. The cold seeping into his bones bled from his fingers and onto the page. His fingers smudged the light into shadows, dirtying their own, pristine tips. The roof was finished soon enough, as spectral on the page as it was in real life. Merlin wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed, but the sun looked in about the same place from where it bore down on his head, heatless. He still had a few minutes by his calculations. He turned the page.

  
Tongue darting out to wet his lips, he simply stared at the sheet of white, it slowly growing to encompass his entire vision. He coughed once or twice to appease the itch in his throat. His pencils hovered over the paper, sometime dipping down to scratch nonsensical marks. It was better to draw with a clear heart and a clear mind. It’s not an “either-or” type of deal. Cloud either of them, and the pencil will stay still. Pity for Merlin, both were clear and foggy all at once. A day can have crystal skies while still suffering the blemish of a wisp or two. He growled to himself, cursing the still waters of his creative flow. Something was blocking out the sun and he needed to get it out of the way. The scritch of his pencil filled the little corner by the chimney again as he forced himself to draw. His wooden hands worked of their own accord, Merlin just as curious as anyone at what they might turn out.

  
Slowly but surely, a face began to appear out of the dusty lines. A face he knew well but could never remember. The stubble on his jaw, the rich scent of coffee and gasoline wafting from the not-quite beard, was always on the tip of his memory. He knew how his eyes were supposed to look. He remembered how, even when serious, those eyes were always shining, never capable of scolding him. But when he finished, it looked wrong. It looked dead. This wasn’t the face he knew from his childhood. This was some other random bastard that could’ve passed him on the street any given day. Merlin wished he would, but knew he wouldn’t. Balinor would never pass him on the street. He ripped out the page and crumpled it up, the serenity of the roof dissipating. He began to draw again, the previous face still swimming before his eyes. Merlin wasn’t aware he had drawn another person until after he had stopped.

  
This face was new, and Merlin didn’t recognize it immediately. The long nose, the sharp jaw, and dull, trapped eyes. His body clenched when he recognised his roommate, drawn in sloppy detail. If possible, he ripped this page out faster than the last one. His hands had worked against him today. In two simple drawings they had shattered the effect of a few puffs that he had desperately looking forward to. He shoved the treacherous book and pencil back into his bag and traded them for his lighter. He lit the tip of the now cold joint once again and took a few extra puffs for good measure before putting it out, saving the scant amount left. After a minute, Merlin stumbled over ridges on his way to the stairs, feeling bodiless once more.

  
~

  
Thursday came and went, the first week flying past Merlin. There was nothing gradual about the amount of schoolwork being assigned. Did “first week of school” mean nothing to these people? He didn’t even have time to deal with the roommate situation, and, seemingly, neither did Arthur. The wall stayed up and they kept to their sides of it, occupied with late practices or maddening amounts of first week assignments. Luckily, with his plan, Merlin didn’t have to spend too much time on the essay Mr. LeFay had assigned. Simon and Garfunkel had taken care of it for him. He didn’t really fancy digging through his own mind for some depressing memory that would only throw him into a funk. He handed it in with confidence, something plenty of the other students couldn’t sympathize with. What really caught him off guard was Friday.

  
Thoughts of the weekend and the promise of the weekend town visit occupied all of his concerns. Teachers could throw whatever they wanted at the students today. Nothing would bring down their excitement, Merlin included. When he got to town tomorrow, maybe he would just stay there: evade teachers and students until they left and he would be free. A rather daring escape, in his mind. He had already planned where he could hide out. In fact, it was this sequence he was going over while Mr. LeFay was handing back papers from yesterday.

  
“Overall, decent job. There’s definitely room for improvement,” Mr. LeFay announced as he walked back and forth handing back the little essays, “There was one essay in particular that stood out and if the student is willing, I would love them to read it aloud to the class. Merlin Emrys?”

  
Merlin froze in his seat, gripping his paper, which was free of marks, edits, or even his grade. The class turned in their seats to stare at him, most of them jeering or smirking. Of course the poof would write the best essay. An icy pit was eating his stomach and he was sure that beads of sweat were rolling down his forehead.

  
“I-I don’t-don’t really want to,” he stuttered stupidly, only comprehensible through the anxious silence. Mr. LeFay nodded, accepting his refusal and Merlin slid down his seat a little, relieved to just barely gotten off the hook.

  
“I can respect that. But I really think that you should.” Look at that, he was back on the line. Mr. LeFay’s steely eyes bore into him, contrasting his calm face. Merlin broke eye contact and looked down at the sinful paper. By some other force, Merlin found himself rising out of his chair and heading to the front of the room. His mind resembled a broken TV, black and white static blurring is vision. He reached the front and looked back and forth between the ever patient LeFay and his curious classmates. He attempted to clear his sandpaper dry throat and began to read.

  
“In my little town I grew up believing that God keeps his eye on us all. And he used to lean upon me. Lord, I recall my little town.”

  
Soft harmonies from Mr. LeFay’s phone interrupted his shaking voice. Merlin stopped, eyes shifting to his teacher in fear. The voices of Simon and Garfunkel hung over a class of blank eyed students, a few of them catching on. Mr. LeFay’s face was blank and he gestured for Merlin to keep reading. Figuring he wasn’t in any position to say no, Merlin pressed on, reciting the lyrics with the singers.

  
“Coming home after school, flying my bike past the gates of the factories...my mom doing the laundry...hanging our shirts…” Merlin stumbled over the words as a gentle chuckle came from the back of the class. He kept reading, voice failing in the ridiculing laughter that now emitted from his classmates. The words on the page were blurring, dancing across each other so he could no longer read them. They might was well be hieroglyphs on a wall, washed away by time. He was vaguely aware of some sort of pitiful sound escaping his lips. It must’ve been him whimpering the words rather than reading them. But most of all there was laughter.

  
Merlin couldn’t help jerking a little when a gentle hand appeared on his shoulder. Mr. LeFay has appeared by his side and took the paper from his hands. “Take a seat,” he whispered. Merlin stumbled to his seat, keeping his head determinedly down, face redder than any pasty Irish boy’s face should be. He couldn’t bear to raise his head, to face his classmates. Already he was acutely aware of several of them boring their eyes into his hunched back.

  
Mr. LeFay surveyed the class, eyes passing over the deflated Merlin. “Dont,” he began in a steely voice, the effect lessened by his pitch, “ever settle for less. We are given our voice for a reason! Don’t let it slip away, don’t steal your voice from someone else. Dare to speak in your own words!” The bell rang and the class, some a little shaken from Mr. LeFay’s rebuke, others still holding in their snorts from the reading, jumped up from their seats and rushed the door. Merlin tried to slip out in the commotion of dismissal but to no avail.

  
“Merlin,” Mr. LeFay called and beckoned him to his desk. Letting the boys slip past him rather than battle through, Merlin shuffled over to Mr. LeFay’s desk, head hung low. He kept his lips so tightly together they were nothing but a thin white line cutting his face in half. Mr. LeFay sighed and settled himself on his desk like he had the first day. “I’m disappointed,” he admitted, voice soft, “Not so much by the essay. It was a clever trick you pulled, which tells me you actually have to no-how to do really well. Why you refuse to try is beyond me. I want to see what you can do, not Mr. Paul or Mr. Garfunkel.”

  
Shame gripped Merlin’s body. He could actually feel himself sinking lower with each word Mr. LeFay spoke. Teachers usually didn’t care enough. Even if he was caught, they just failed him and moved on. No one cared about calling the students out, or teaching them what they did was wrong. Confrontation was non existent at Camelot and Merlin wasn’t exactly fond of the change. He thought the talk was done, but Mr. LeFay didn’t dismiss him. He chanced to glance up for a moment. Mr. LeFay was appraising him with saddened eyes, dark under furrowed brows.

  
“What do you think I should do?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. Merlin shrugged and stubbed the toe of his show into the ground. Mr. LeFay sighed, “Well for one, I think that you should stay here tomorrow instead of going into town.” Merlin’s head shot up, his stomach plummeting. Not that. Anything but that. He couldn’t last another week here. If he was going to run for it, it had to be tomorrow. Before the fancy struck Cenred to string him up the goal posts in the rugby field.

  
“Mr. LeFay, please! I’ll rewrite the essay! I’ll-”

  
“Is rewriting the essay really going to help you learn this lesson?”

  
_No_. “Yes.”

Mr. LeFay clicked his tongue and squinted his eyes before shaking his head.

  
“You know, Merlin, I’m gonna tell you something else about me. A little secret if you will,” he walked over to gather a few papers from his desk, new students wandering into the room for the next class, “I’m really good at telling when people are lying.” Merlin scowled, but not at Mr. LeFay. He adjusted the strap of his bag and slipped out of the classroom before Mr. LeFay could say another word or somehow make his punishment worse.

  
For the rest of the day, Merlin could no longer sympathize with his classmates barely suppressed enthusiasm. They all got to go out tomorrow while he would stay trapped at the school. He didn’t pay attention in any of his other classes, but not because he was preoccupied with planning his escape. That ship had sailed. A few of his professors snapped at him when all he did was sit in his desk and stare at the wall. Not even art improved his mood. He traced random scribbles across the pad of paper so it at least looked like he was doing something.

  
Unshockingly, he didn’t feel much like enjoying dinner. Bypassing the noisy hall completely, he instead headed for bed. Roommate no doubt at dinner, the room was all to himself for one glorious hour. He wacked his hip on the corner of the wall and cried out in frustration. He collapsed onto his bed, massaging the offended hip, stewing over the fact that most of his problems were products of situations he had created. There was no one to be angry with except for himself. Still, he wished that for once he would be allowed to rage like one of the kids on the rugby team and have it excused because he was simply “expressing himself”. He flopped onto his stomach, smothering his face into his poor excuse of a pillow. Brilliant. Brilliant start to the year. He flicked the radio on his alarm clock on, some obscure radio station playing obscure music. Not that he liked the weird banjo violin fusion that was screaming out of the speaker, he just needed something, anything, besides his tumultuous thoughts.

  
An hour later, as expected, Arthur came bumbling into the room. Merlin had since then moved onto more productive activities than moaning into his pillow and began plotting some different method of expulsion. He stayed huddled on his bed, notebook in his lap as he scratched out idea after idea. He barely acknowledged when Arthur came in until something flew at his head from the other side of the wall.

  
“What gives?” Merlin shouted, narrowly dodging the assailant. Arthur’s face popped over the edge, offense etched into his expression.

  
“Open it...clotpole,” he dismissed in a gruff voice. The head disappeared. Merlin glowered at the balled open napkin and left it alone out of pettiness. The head reappeared.

  
“Well?”

  
Merlin rolled his eyes and snatched ball from where it landed on his bed. Inside the napkin was a roll cut in half with some jam, a little smashed and a little crumbled. Merlin stared at the roll before back at the wall, more than a little stunned. The head had gone. Caught between wanting to be mean, not wanting to be mean, along with hunger and guilt battling in his stomach, he gently tore off a little piece and popped it into his mouth. He stomach rumbled happily and demanded that Merlin devour the roll. He was already thin enough without skipping dinner. Despite the food, it did nothing to abate the pit at the bottom of his stomach. In fact, he only deepened it. Merlin couldn’t think why Arthur would bother to him bring him anything, let alone notice that he was missing from the meal. He dismissed the thought. Arthur had probably snuck the roll up as a snack for later. Still, his cheeks heated a little at the gesture anyways, despite original intention. And what had Merlin done in return? He had gone American and built a wall.

  
“Thanks, “ he muttered, knowing that Arthur likely wouldn’t hear it.

  
“...You’re welcome.”

  
Merlin played with the napkin, expecting that to be the end of it.

  
“That was pretty cool...that thing with the song.” Now it was Merlin’s turn to pop above the wall. He unfolded himself from where he was pretzeled on the bed. Too short to see over, he placed his hands on the top (made up of books and boxes) and lifted himself onto the tips of his toes. Even then, he could barely peek over.

  
“What?” He asked, voice a little funny from his smooshed nose. He stumbled back in surprise when Arthur popped back up.

  
“It was cool,” Arthur kept his eyes down, playing with one of the books for something to do with his hands, “At least, I thought it was.”

  
“Oh. Thanks.” Thanks. He thanked him. Well, what else was he supposed to say to that? Hey, you’re actually a really nice guy so far and I’ve been a total arse to you? Actually yeah, that’s what he should say. Not thanks. Yet, he didn’t. Merlin retreated back to his bed and tossed the napkin in the bin, trying his best to ignore the growing tightness in his throat. He had to fix this. Somehow, he would find a way to make things better. It’s the least he could do in return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, it won’t always take this long to update. What can I say? School takes precedence. 
> 
> If you’ve never read any of my other works, I love to put subtle clues foreshadowing events later in the fic. If something seems randomly placed, it’s probably not. Have fun looking for those! 
> 
> Once again, thanks to my amazing friend and beta for helping me with this chapter. Hopefully the next one out will be out quicker and it won’t be as long.

**Author's Note:**

> Trim, the town the Merlin grew up in, is a beautiful town in Ireland. I would encourage you guys to look it up and just imagine a little Merlin running around and growing up there. 
> 
> This is my first Merlin fic but it’s been a long time coming. I guess I just needed an idea. 
> 
> Don’t be shy, I love to read comments and hear what everyone thinks. Even if you just comment to say hello, it’s really appreciated!


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